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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294070">Love is Blind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfrost/pseuds/sfrost'>sfrost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anime Sanjuushi | Three Musketeers, Versailles no Bara | Rose of Versailles, d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossover, Gen, Magic, Shipping, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:21:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfrost/pseuds/sfrost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The three musketeers, Athos, Porthos and Aramis (female) find themselves in the 18th century and the court of Versailles. Will they manage to help Oscar capture the Black Knight and save Andre from a grim future?</p><p>A fun swashbuckling adventure filled with humor, lots and lots of romance and plenty of shipping ^^</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>March 8<sup>th</sup> 1627</strong>
</p><p>The countryside rolled by peacefully. The fields were becoming greener and flowers were starting to pop up here and there, marking the arrival of Spring.</p><p>The tranquility of the paysage was interrupted for the umpteenth time by a loud sigh.</p><p>“Really, Porthos, we do this every year,” Athos moaned in exasperation.</p><p>“What is the big issue, anyway?” enjoined Aramis, approaching her horse close enough to pat her comrade on the shoulder. The giant always seemed to respond to her soothing gestures.</p><p>Porthos mumbled something inaudible.</p><p>“Porthos doesn’t like the Chateau de Versailles, » Athos clarified on behalf of his friend.</p><p>Aramis raised her eyebrows. How had she never noticed?</p><p>Ah yes, it was probably because they had never been to Versaille alone before. Usually, they went as part of a big royal entourage and were thus too occupied along the road. When they would arrive, the Chateau would already be buzzing with life to welcome the King. Not once had they been to Versaille when it was deserted, least of all when it was just the three of them.</p><p>“That place is eerie, I tell you,” declared Porthos, finally roused from his mood. “It gives me the chills. Something is not right there, I swear it. It’s like there’s a… presence or something.” Then, pausing for dramatic effect he added with an exaggerated dark tone, “As if it’s... <em>haunted</em>.”</p><p>Aramis’ eyebrows shot so far up that they seemed to disappear under her fringe. Porthos and superstitions just did not seem like a plausible combination. Yet she could sense deep apprehension coming from him. Him, the colossal Porthos, who was never afraid of anything. She looked to Athos for reassurance but he only rolled his eyes, shook his head and prodded on.</p><p><em>“Fine, I’ll let it go for now…”</em> she said to herself mentally in response to Athos’ gesture.</p><p>…</p><p>The rest of the journey passed in silence. The three musketeers finally made a halt at the top of a hill overlooking the small chateau. It was, in fact, the first time that the task of reconnaissance had been assigned to them before the King’s party departed the Louvre for a hunting séjour at Versailles. Only Athos knew that Capitaine de Treville had received a tip on a potential threat at Versailles awaiting the King which had prompted him to order his best musketeers to go ahead first and ensure everything was clear.</p><p>Athos sat up straight on his horse, surveying the surroundings below. Unfortunately, his concentration was unduly disturbed by yet another sigh. He clenched his fists tightly so as not to yield to the urge of strangling his comrade.</p><p>“Do you know, this place has so much more potential. Just look at it!” exclaimed the grand musketeer. “It could be so much more than it is. It could be <em>bigger</em>, prettier, more <em>extravagant</em>! There is so much land, you could expand it to more than three times its current size. And think of all the luxuries you could furnish it with! Ah, marble statues, walls made of gold, luscious textiles, halls and halls of paintings, oh and wonderful gardens!” He cooed to himself, practically swooning off of his horse. To drive his point home he added, “Now imagine working in a place like <em>that</em>! Who would ever set foot in the Louvre ever again?! <em>I</em> wouldn’t. Not if you paid me.”</p><p>Aramis burst out in a fit of laughter. </p><p>Athos, on the other hand, wasn’t so amused. “And who is to pay for all of this luxury, pray?”</p><p>Porthos glared at Athos, annoyed that his bubble was burst. “I don’t know, the King?”</p><p>Athos only scoffed, took up his reigns and began trotting downhill while uttering cynically, “and with what money…”</p><p>…</p><p>The sound of their heels clicked on the tiles as they walked from one room to another. Contrary to Porthos’ grim image, the chateau was far from deserted. Servants still lived in it year-round, cleaning and maintaining.</p><p>Some of the rooms were still covered in white sheets and not yet dusted nor prepared. The place was minimally furnished with little decorations. Compared to the Louvre, it was mostly empty.</p><p>Aramis had to admit, Porthos wasn’t entirely wrong. This place <em>was</em> eerie. Moreover, there was a vibe about it that was chilling.</p><p>She hugged herself, feeling cold.</p><p>“You… don’t really believe in those things, do you?” she ventured.</p><p>“What things?”</p><p>“You know, ghosts and... magic and the like …”</p><p>“I think it would be wise <em>not</em> to ignore them,” shrugged Porthos.</p><p>“And you, Athos?”</p><p>“Athos doesn’t believe in these sorts of things so don’t waste your time with him,” Porthos scoffed.</p><p>“Actually,” Athos interjected, “You might be surprised to know that I do believe in ‘magic and the like.’”</p><p>Aramis and Porthos looked from each other, their jaws dropped. The ever-rational Athos making such an admission was beyond belief.</p><p>“I was married to a witch, remember?” Athos threw in casually to supplement his statement.</p><p>Aramis rolled her eyes, coming out of her shock. So <em>that’s</em> why. He didn’t really <em>believe</em> in magic. “Milady is hardly a sorceress. She was just a woman with… competencies.”</p><p>“Right,” the dark musketeer replied sarcastically. “Remind me, though…how many women do you know who can control animals?”</p><p>“It’s not unheard of. Farmers do it all the time!” snapped Aramis, without fully knowing why she was defending a woman with a colorful criminal past.</p><p>“Funny you should mention that, because Milady had never spent a day in her life on a farm.”</p><p>“Some people just have a natural affinity for animals…” she countered.</p><p>“She <em>did </em>manage to overthrow the King himself and replace him with a twin whom she so expertly manipulated to meet her own agenda and control the country for a time,” Porthos put in.</p><p>“She wasn’t alone in that. And as I said, she’s just competent. Nothing about that is sorcery.”</p><p>“Why are you even defending her?” Porthos interrogated her.</p><p>“Because,” Aramis clenched her fists.  “You can’t just accuse a woman of sorcery simply because she has shown herself capable of doing things that are only expected from men. By that logic, then I am a sorceress too, <em>n’est-ce pas</em>? After all, I did deceive you for six years in letting you think I was a man. I know how to use a sword expertly. And I tricked you into thinking I betrayed you that one time...”</p><p>Her passionate speech ended with a slight wavering in her tone. She still felt guilty about deceiving them. For both times.</p><p>Athos regarded her coolly.</p><p>“It’s just different,” was all he could say. Yes, he had felt betrayed. More so by the second time than by her hiding her identity. The latter he understood and could forgive. However, that moment, when she announced her acceptance of the Captain’s post, broke something in him. But perhaps “broke” wasn’t the right word. Rather, that short-lived belief that Aramis had left - the sheer idea that she would no longer be in his life - seemed to “awaken” something in him.</p><p>“How is it different?” she pursued. “Athos, how is it different?” she repeated when he turned around to walk away from her. Yes, the fences between them had mended but she constantly found herself seeking some sort of reassurance. Especially from <em>him</em>.</p><p>Porthos sighed, getting frustrated by this conversation. “Just tell him you like him, already…” he mumbled.</p><p>“What?!” she turned to him, flustered.</p><p>“What? Oh! Ah, nothing, I didn’t say anything,” Porthos put his hands up in defence. Blast, his thoughts spilled out of his mouth. To save himself he answered her:</p><p>“Look, it’s different because you haven’t tried to murder us a hundred times over. You never tried to implicate the Queen in a plot. You never worked for Cardinal Richelieu and oh yes, did I mention the part about murdering us?”</p><p>Her posture relaxed. She was appeased with his answer, to his satisfaction.</p><p>“Not that you know of, anyway,” she winked at him as she passed him by on her way out of the room.</p><p>“Oh, touché!” he grinned, taking this opportunity to give her a light spank. She squealed then turned back and rained down on him with punches.</p><p>…</p><p>To save time, the three friends separated and each went to inspect some corner of the chateau.</p><p>A sudden loud shriek drew the two musketeers to the room where Porthos was.</p><p>They barged in, swords unsheathed and ready to engage.</p><p>They found Porthos recoiled against a wall. He was as pale as sheet, unable to articulate.</p><p>“What’s wrong, what’s happened?”</p><p>“A… a… a woman!” he pointed across the room. The sweat was breaking out on his forehead. “A woman with wh-white hair. She just… floated in the room and l-left.”</p><p>Athos and Aramis put their swords away, relaxing their postures upon seeing no immediate danger.</p><p>“And where exactly did she go?” questioned Athos. He absolutely refused to fall for these ridiculous allusions to ghosts.</p><p>Porthos only pointed to the wall. “Th-the-there…”</p><p>Aramis approached him with a look of motherly concern and a bottle of water.</p><p>He thanked her and gulped down a handsome amount to calm his nerves.</p><p>While Athos went to check the wall for any handles to a secret chamber, Aramis stepped out to check the hallway.</p><p>…</p><p>She was walking along the wall when a movement startled her.</p><p>She turned around.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She could hear her own heart beat in this deserted hallway. <em>Calm down, calm down. Ghosts don’t exist…There must be a reasonable explanation for what Porthos saw.</em></p><p>She took a deep breath and resumed walking.</p><p>But there, again!</p><p>She was sure now. Something or some<em>one</em> moved. Her hand gripped the hilt of the sword tightly.</p><p>“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice barely a whisper. Her sword in the air, she twirled around herself to spot the intruder.</p><p>Then, she saw it.</p><p>A dusty old mirror hanging on the wall opposite her.</p><p>“Phew, it’s only a –“</p><p>She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes wide and unblinking.</p><p>There was someone there.</p><p>Someone <em>in</em> the looking-glass.</p><p>“Of course, there’s someone, you fool, it’s you! That’s what mirrors do!” She attempted to reassure herself.</p><p>Except, it wasn’t her.</p><p>The hair was blond and the eyes were blue. Nevertheless, the hair was curlier, the figure taller and the facial features were just starkly different. She wore a uniform, too. Yet unlike the dark blue musketeer’s uniform Aramis wore, the woman in the looking glass had a decorated military outfit that was a deep red.</p><p>The musketeer couldn’t help but be captivated by this vision.</p><p>
  <em>It can’t be…</em>
</p><p>As Aramis looked closer, it seemed as though the Officer Woman had opened her mouth to utter something. Instinctively, Aramis placed her palm onto the looking glass to hone in her focus on the image before her. But as soon as she touched the glass, the Officer Woman disappeared, breaking the spell and startling the musketeer.</p><p>The latter let out a scream that echoed into the hallway.</p><p>….</p><p>The other two musketeers came rushing out to find her grasping her collar, almost sinking to the floor. She looked just as Porthos did a few minutes ago.</p><p>Before any of them said anything, she raised her hand to stop them and reassure them.</p><p>“I… it’s nothing, I thought I… saw something. There.”</p><p>“Where?” Porthos approached her.</p><p>“There in that looking glass!”</p><p>“You mean… your reflection?” Athos replied, unimpressed.</p><p>She looked back at the mirror and indeed, there she was. “I… yes. That must have been it,” she shrugged.</p><p>Porthos stayed with her while Athos drifted off into another room.</p><p>…</p><p>The dark musketeer walked into what looked like a library. It was poorly furnished but then again, the place was only used occasionally.</p><p>He perused the titles absent-mindedly when he heard a voice. A chill ran down his spine.</p><p>“Olivier… Olivier…”</p><p>It was sweet, melodious and it sounded as though it came from far away. As far away as a different time.</p><p>He cried out “Who’s there? Show yourself!”</p><p>“Olivier…”</p><p>The voice said again, teasingly, as if amused by the musketeer’s reaction.</p><p>“SHOW YOURSELF!”</p><p>“Athos?”</p><p>He turned around abruptly, sword in the air, only to be met by Aramis and Porthos. His heart was pounding.</p><p>This voice… how could he ever forget it? But it couldn’t be… could it?</p><p>“Did… you hear something?” Aramis started.</p><p>“No, it was nothing.”</p><p>“See?” Porthos suddenly exclaimed, startling them both. Usually the two most composed soldiers in the regiment were now at the edge of their nerves. “I TOLD you this place was haunted! First, the woman with the white hair, then Aramis sees a ghost in the mirror and now you’re starting to hear nonexistent voices. We need to get out of here right now.”</p><p>“We have a mission to do. That woman was the product of your overactive imagination. And Aramis only saw her own reflection. As for me,” Athos said as he pointed to the open curtain, “it was just the wind.”</p><p>“Regardless,” Aramis began, “I think we <em>should</em> leave. We’ve visited every inch of this place. I think it’s safe to say that there is no threat lurking around.”</p><p>She was restless, Athos could tell.</p><p>“No threat that we can see, at least,” Porthos cautioned.</p><p>“Fine, let’s go,” Athos conceded. He, too, was starting to feel destabilized by this whole experience. There is nothing Athos hated more than things that he couldn’t explain. But seeing his comrades’ faces, he didn’t want to linger here any longer to look for said explanations.</p><p>…</p><p>Out in the fresh air, the mood seemed to lighten a bit.</p><p>The three musketeers sipped some water and brandy that Porthos produced from his doublet. They were discussing the route back to Paris when a little boy came rushing up to them.</p><p>“Messieurs, messieurs!” he cried out.</p><p>He reminded Aramis of Jean. She smiled and bent down to his level. “And who might you be?”</p><p>His excitement seemed quelled, now replaced by curiosity and shyness as the blond musketeer scrutinized him. Children had a way of seeing things that were invisible to others. She straightened up and put on her hat to hide her face. <em>Not in the mood to be recognized as a woman today…</em></p><p>“A bad man was threatening my grandma, can you come and help, messieurs, please?” the boy said as he recovered himself.</p><p>“And where does your grandmother live?” Porthos inquired.</p><p>“Just a few minutes’ walk from here. Please!”</p><p>Before anyone could protest, he grabbed Aramis’ hand and led her to his destination. She glanced back at her comrades, shrugging. Athos stared ahead as him and Porthos followed suit. She seemed to be conversing with the child, trying to garner more information from him in the gentlest way possible. There was something in the way the child held her hand, in how he was drawn naturally to her. As if he didn’t want to let go. As if he felt safe with her. Athos felt a warmth settle onto his heart. The Aramis he was seeing before him suddenly transformed into a dress. And the boy she was with was theirs, leading her out into the field to play while he watched them tenderly.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, dear God, oh dear God, what the devil was he thinking?! </em>
</p><p>Porthos gave him a nudge and nodded ahead to bring his friend’s attention back to reality. He knew exactly what Athos must be thinking. Although dressed in men’s clothes, the view from behind was still just as attractive.  <em>Just tell her already, Athos…</em> This time, however, he made sure he kept that thought to himself.</p><p>A little shack materialized before them, into which the boy led Aramis.</p><p>…</p><p>The place looked a lot bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. It was filled to the brim with all kinds of trinkets. Colorful beads, dried flowers and herbs, an assortment of pots and pans, a large kettle, rolls and rolls of parchment, candles and some other random crafty-looking treasures.</p><p>The three friends looked around in amazement.</p><p>“What is this place?” Porthos murmured, grabbing a bottle of liquor and studying it.</p><p>He almost dropped the bottle when a shrill voice announced:</p><p>“Welcome, Messieurs! You are just in time.”</p><p>Hurriedly, he put the bottle back where he found it.</p><p>“Forgive the intrusion, Madame,” Athos addressed the stranger. She was a short stout woman, dressed in bright colors. She wore a multitude of bracelets and necklaces and there were beads braided into her hair.</p><p>“Only, your grandson has asked our help in fending off a man who was threatening you. Is the man around?”</p><p>The woman seemed slightly confused. She looked to the boy and back to the musketeer. It seemed to finally dawn on her. She waved her arm casually.</p><p>“Oh, that! Not to worry, nothing I couldn’t handle myself. My poor Pierre is often afraid of the tax men.”</p><p>The three musketeers exchanged glances. Something was definitely off.</p><p>“Very well, then,” Athos finally spoke after an awkward silence. “We shall be on our way. Good day to you.”</p><p>He tipped his hat and the three of them prepared to leave.</p><p>“Erm, can I interest you in reading your future, perhaps? To show my gratitude for coming to my aid,” she added, as if to motivate them to overcome their reluctance.</p><p>Athos replied with a firm yet polite no-thank you and began to head back out. Yes, there was something undoubtedly fishy in this place. If he hadn’t married one, he wouldn’t have believed in witches. And this place had “witch” spelled all over it.</p><p>“Aw, why not?” Porthos pleaded discreetly with Athos.</p><p>“We don’t have time for these shenanigans.”</p><p>“Are you sure, Monsieur?” came the melodious voice of the woman. “If there is anything we have plenty of, it <em>is</em> time!”</p><p>At that, she let out a strange laugh that made even Porthos’ blood run cold, totally eliminating any desire he had to stay and hear what she had to tell him about any upcoming conquests with the opposite sex.</p><p>“Thank you but we’re leaving.”</p><p>With that, Athos placed his hand on Aramis’ back to lead her out since she was closest to the door.</p><p>“Come, Mademoiselle! Don’t you want to know your fortune? Young ladies always love to know the identity of the man they will marry!”</p><p>Aramis froze in her tracks.</p><p>Athos turned around, his face now visibly angry. What was this woman insinuating? How dare someone accuse a musketeer of being a… woman? Yes, even though Aramis <em>was</em> a woman, they still needed to play the part. It wasn’t only her secret, it was theirs. She belonged to them and they to her.</p><p>But before Athos could say anything, the strange woman cooed to him:</p><p>“And what about France? Doesn’t the future of France concern you, musketeers of the King?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Athos was at the brim of explosion. Who <em>was </em>this woman? How he loathed, <em>loathed</em>, these kinds of ridiculous theatrics. He had seen gypsies before, trying to trick people into giving them money.</p><p>“France, gentlemen… France will fall and burn to ashes, gushing with the blood of its people.”</p><p>She paused for dramatic effect, savoring her victory of capturing their attention.</p><p>“What do you know exactly?” Athos hissed, approaching her. “Is this a plot against the King? Who are you working for?”</p><p>“A plot?” the woman laughed heartily. “It is more than a plot, monsieur. It is destiny.”</p><p>“Tell me who is responsible! We have to stop whatever will happen at any cost!” Athos yelled. He was losing his composure.</p><p>“Stop it? You can’t stop destiny…”</p><p>He pulled out a dagger from his belt and put it to her neck. “Tell me what you know now or else.”</p><p>At that moment, Aramis remembered the little boy. He had cowered behind her, grabbing her leg for safety.</p><p>“Athos…” she moved forward and placed her hand on Athos’ arm. He lowered the dagger. “Come on, let’s go. She’s just a lost woman, don’t waste your time,” she pleaded with him.</p><p>The dark musketeer continued to stare at the woman. She stared back at him in a mocking defiance. Her stare was finally broken by a shimmer that caught her eye on the chest of the blond musketeer.</p><p>“What a beautiful pendant you have, Mademoiselle,” she reached out and rubbed it soothingly.</p><p>Incredulous that someone felt they had the right to touch the person of Aramis, <em>his</em> Aramis, without permission, Athos swatted the woman’s arm away with little consideration to the amount of force he applied.</p><p>The stranger took a few steps back and reflexively rubbed her arm where Athos had hit her. She glared at him like a wild animal who was just injured.</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” Aramis hissed at him through gritted teeth.</p><p>She mumbled some apologies to the woman and put down a few coins on the table.</p><p>“You are kind Madame,” the woman said to her. “Allow me to repay you, please.”</p><p>She outstretched her arm and beckoned to Aramis for her hand.</p><p>The blond musketeer was reluctant. Athos shook his head to signal to her not to do it.</p><p>Yet there was something… appealing about the whole thing. Besides, they had done enough damage. The least they could do is to show some politeness.</p><p>She gave her hand and the strange woman inspected it. She nodded several times to herself.</p><p>“Tragic past… a lost love… and perhaps…” here she paused, glanced at Athos and back at Aramis. The blush on Aramis’ cheeks did not go unnoticed by the woman. Aramis was thankful that the woman decided not to pursue the topic of love further.</p><p>However, she became more and more uncomfortable, as the woman’s attention became fixated on her pendant.</p><p>“A ruby can give a woman the gift of time,” the woman murmured absent-mindedly. “But only to those who are pure of heart. If destiny calls, then you must answer it. The pendant will lead you where your love awaits. And remember my dear, no matter where or rather, <em>when</em> you end up, love is always the answer.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author’s Note: the original date in Chapter 1 was changed from March 17th to March 8th.<br/>I initially chose March 17th because of its magical properties in Celtic folklore as St Patrick’s Day.<br/>However, to fit better within the chronology of the story, an earlier date was necessary so I chose March 8th for International Women’s Day.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Evening of March 8<sup>th</sup>, 1627 *</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Are you still thinking about that?” inquired Athos as he sat down opposite the blond musketeer, placing two frothing mugs of ale on the table. He pushed one towards her.</p><p>Aramis sighed, tucking the pendant away. Her hands encircled the mug Athos brought her as she mumbled a thank you.</p><p>Ever since their return from Versailles, Athos could sense a shadow enveloping his friend. He stared at her with concern, searching for her eyes that seemed to have disappeared under the blond mane. Her attention was fixated on the drink before her.</p><p>“Hey,” he said in a low voice. After looking around to make sure no one was looking, he placed his hand on hers in a reassuring gesture.</p><p>She finally looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. He pulled his hand away.</p><p>“What do you think that woman meant?” she entreated him.</p><p>“Pff, who knows?” he uttered, taking a sip from his drink.</p><p>“She said all those things about ‘the gift of time’ and ‘where and <em>when</em>’ one could end up,” she continued.</p><p>“As you wisely reminded me back there, she is a lost woman. She is probably a trickster who cheats people out of their wallet,” his tone was a lot harsher than he intended, but Aramis did not even seem to notice. She was wrapped up in her own world.</p><p>“What if…” she began, timidly. Then, meeting his gaze again, she leaned in and whispered, “what if it was possible?”</p><p>He blinked at her a few times before he leaned in to meet her halfway.</p><p>“You mean traveling through time?”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>He held her gaze again, his stare intensifying. He seemed to be almost prying into her very soul. There was always something in the way Athos looked at her that destabilized her and made her self-conscious. She often wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Even though he had never said anything about it, Aramis was sure that Athos was not fooled all those years she pretended to be a man.</p><p>“I think you’ve gone insane,” came his carefully uttered response.</p><p>She scoffed at him and leaned back in her chair.</p><p>“What do you want me to say?” he prodded. “Of course, it’s not possible, how could it?! The idea that you’re even entertaining this! Look, I don’t fully blame you. It was a strange day to say the least.”</p><p>“I thought you believed in ‘magic and the like’,” she countered, mimicking the way he talked. He rolled her eyes at her childish behaviour.</p><p>“I do, but within reason,” he replied.</p><p>“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Now <em>that’s</em> a paradox. There is nothing reasonable about magic. That’s the whole point of it, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know what the point of it is, now, would I? I’m not a w-,” he cut himself off before he finished.</p><p>“You’re not a what, Athos? A woman?” she lashed at him.</p><p>“<em>No</em>, I was going to say a ‘witch’,” he tempered his tone.</p><p>He stared her in the eyes until she seemed to believe him and looked away. <em>Crisis averted.</em></p><p>They sat in silence for a while, drinking and listening to Porthos as he told crude jokes to a group of amused men standing just a few feet from them.</p><p>“Wouldn’t it… wouldn’t it be nice if it was possible, though?” Aramis muttered almost to herself, rubbing her locket between her gloved fingers once more.</p><p>Ah, so that’s what it was. He exhaled, relieved that his Aramis wasn’t, in fact, going mad. She was simply… yearning. She was longing for the memory of her dead fiancée. His heart sank both from jealousy and empathy brought about by her sadness.</p><p>She cleared her throat and straightened up. “Well, isn’t there a time you would like to go back to, given the chance?” she smiled at him and he could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, to remove the shadow that she had inadvertently placed between them.</p><p>“Not in a million years,” he answered, taking a generous gulp from his drink. She sent him a questioning glance. If it were any other person, he would have simply walked away from the conversation, but Aramis had a way of making him talk even without using her words.</p><p>“Come on, it couldn’t have been <em>that </em>bad!” she teased him.</p><p>“Let’s see, a boring life in the country, married to a woman who did not love me, who stole my money, betrayed me with not one but <em>several</em> other men, then left me after telling me the child she was pregnant with was not actually mine,” he pretended to be deep in thought. “Yes, now that I say it out aloud, my answer hasn’t changed. Not. In. A. Million. Years.”</p><p>Aramis burst in laughter.</p><p>“Besides,” he added, “A life without <em>you</em>… and Porthos. How would I ever survive?” he gave her a wink and took another gulp. The emphasis followed by the pause in his speech did not go unnoticed. She blushed and instinctively tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, to Athos’ great surprise. What a very… <em>feminine</em> thing to do. Especially when complimented. Especially when… <em>flirting</em>. Could it be? Is it possible that she, too, could be having the same feelings towards him? Is it…</p><p>But his thoughts were untimely interrupted.</p><p>“Athos!” she was now practically hissing at him. She had leaned in closer, a look of alarm on her face. “Don’t look now but I just noticed this. There is a man in the corner there who has been staring at me for a while. I’ve never seen him before.”</p><p>…</p><p>The dark musketeer left the table under the pretense of getting more drinks. He concealed himself behind a group of men and observed the stranger. Aramis was right. He was staring at her. Intently. His neck moved around the masses of people who went and came so as not obstruct his view of the blond musketeer.</p><p>No, he wasn’t just staring at her. He was <em>watching</em> at her.</p><p>Athos sat back down with the drinks in hand.</p><p>“Act nonchalant,” he told her.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“You’re right. He’s neither from our regiment nor is he from the Red Guard. In fact, he’s not even French.”</p><p>“Spanish?”</p><p>“English. Of some high rank, as I can tell from his clothes.”</p><p>Aramis searched her memory. “Well, the only English person I’ve ever met was the Duke of Buckingham and he was assassinated by-”</p><p>“By none other than my wife,” Athos cut her off.</p><p>Aramis chuckled. “I was going to say Milady, but yes.”</p><p>He took another gulp from his drink.</p><p>“You’ve been mentioning her a lot more lately,” remarked Aramis.</p><p>“Have I?”</p><p>“It’s nice,” she threw in.</p><p>He almost choked on his drink. “<em>Nice</em>?”</p><p>She gave him a warm smile. “Nice that you’re opening up a bit more.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>He wasn’t expecting that.</p><p>“We should probably leave,” Athos hurriedly said so as to avoid any further awkwardness. “We can go out the back. If he follows us, we’ll deal with him outside.”</p><p>Aramis nodded in agreement.</p><p>…</p><p>Athos rose and walked a couple of steps towards Porthos, who was entertaining a group of men and prostitutes. He placed his hand on Porthos’ shoulder and whispered something to him before rejoining Aramis.</p><p>“What did you tell him?”</p><p>“I asked him to give us some cover so we can slip out. If you just walk in front of him and I’ll walk on the side, you’ll be able to get out unnoticed and then, I will come back and –“</p><p>Alas, Athos could not finish his sentence before a loud brouhaha broke out and the tavern fell into chaos.</p><p>Aramis approached Athos and yelled above the noise, “I think you forgot to specify just what <em>kind</em> of cover you wanted him to give us!” It was at this moment when she spotted Porthos grab a bottle and smash it against the table before he launched himself at a few Red Guards.</p><p>Athos exhaled and shook his head, “Evidently.”</p><p>…</p><p>The two musketeers expertly dodged bottles, chairs and fists thrown in the air.</p><p>Aramis kept her eyes on the stranger as she attempted to make her way to the back exit. Were it not for this mysterious man, this would have been a lot more fun.</p><p>“Going somewhere, pretty boy?”</p><p>A slimy moustachioed Red Guard appeared before her.</p><p>“Get out of my way, Jussac!”</p><p>“How about a kiss first, hm?” Jussac proceeded to make exaggerated kissing noises.</p><p>“DISGUSTING!”</p><p>She pushed him out of the way.</p><p>Alas, he managed to grab her arm and yanked her back.</p><p>
  <em>So much for not getting involved…</em>
</p><p>A few punches and kicks later, Jussac was writhing on the floor. Aramis straightened up and searched for the stranger. Athos had also disappeared in the crowd.</p><p>Then, without warning, she felt a blade to her neck and the stranger materialized before her.</p><p>“Not one word, musketeer.”</p><p>She could detect an accent in this threat.</p><p>Athos, who had been swallowed in the crowd, resurfaced just in time to see the stranger’s sword slash at the neck of the blond musketeer before she screamed “NO” like a wounded animal. Except, only Athos could hear the agony in her voice.</p><p>Then, just like in a dream, time seemed to stop and everything moved ever so slowly.</p><p>The stranger yanked the pendant he cut off of Aramis’ neck. The musketeer subsequently locked him in a most violent combat as the two wrestled for the amulet as if their lives depended on it.</p><p>Then Porthos, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, backed up into Aramis causing her to lose her ground, all the while Athos was held back by a couple of adversaries as he struggled to keep his eyes on the blond musketeer.</p><p>This was the moment when Aramis’ scream pierced through the tavern. Athos and Porthos looked up to see the pendant flying in the air as if it had a life of its own.</p><p>It spun and spun and spun. Athos counted almost seven complete rotations.</p><p>The stranger, who was dragged to the floor by a falling Aramis, gathered himself quickly and ran after the pendant. Then, like a phoenix who rose from the ashes, the musketeer leapt from the floor onto a table and jumped from table to table as the two raced for the pendant. Athos had never seen such wild determination and fire in her eyes. It was as though she was possessed.</p><p>“ARAMIS!” Athos cried, finally liberated. He went after her but it was too late. She had already jumped off of the last table closest to the entrance and flew out the door and into the cold spring air. By the time he found himself well outside the tavern, Aramis was gone.</p><p>…</p><p>Her lungs ached as the cold air pierced through them, but she refused to stop running. She ran and ran and ran. Alas, he was faster. Then, much to her chagrin, he found a horse and rode off. She ran in the direction he rode in but after a while she collapsed under the weight of her heavy legs. She found a deserted alley where she sank to the damp floor and gave way to tears.</p><p><em>Francois</em>… the only thing she had left of him, the only thing she had left of her old life, her old self, of Renee, of the only person who had loved her. It was gone. Forever.</p><p>…</p><p>She walked back to the tavern, her tail between her legs. She was a failure. If only she were born a man. She would have been faster, stronger, better. None of this would have happened. How can she face Athos and Porthos now? She hugged herself from the cold. What will they think of her? They probably already consider her inferior to them.</p><p>Why wouldn’t they?</p><p>She <em>was</em> inferior.</p><p>She was a <em>woman</em>.</p><p>She tilted her neck back to take a deep breath. This was no time for crying. It was when she looked up this instant that she noticed people staring at her.</p><p>Did they notice it too, now all of a sudden after six years of disguise? Did it finally come out, that she was a woman? That the King employed women soldiers in his personal guard?</p><p><em>Calm down, Aramis. That can’t be it</em>, whispered her rational self.</p><p>She looked up and found herself in front of a bakery.</p><p>Wait a minute.</p><p>Where did this bakery come from? Had she run that far?</p><p>She knew Paris like the back of her hand. She looked around. This was the right intersection. She retraced her steps a few times and back, noticing the names of the streets. Could she be wrong? Was the tavern elsewhere? No, that was impossible. It was here, no doubt.</p><p>She stared about her at the people and for the first time she noticed something different: they were dressed differently. They were also staring at her with disgust, almost hatred.</p><p>She shrank back from the main flow of people towards this bakery. She peeked in through the window to see if somehow there was something inside that she missed.</p><p>“Hey! Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” someone yelled behind her.</p><p>She turned around, startled.</p><p>“Excuse me, I was just… err…”</p><p>Before she could finish the man yelled, “Help! Help! Someone is trying to steal our bread!”</p><p>“I… no, no! That’s not what is it. I’m a musketeer, I would never…”</p><p>“A musketeer, eh? Is that what you noble soldiers call yourselves now?”</p><p>A few men quickly materialized behind the one who called out for them. They were civilians. But they were armed. Daggers, pistols, pitchforks and batons.</p><p>Then more and more of them started crowding.</p><p>She instinctively grabbed the hilt of her sword but something told her it was best not to engage.</p><p>And she was right.</p><p>They descended on her with a fury.</p><p>Aramis fled, running as fast as she could.</p><p>Good God, she barely had any breath left in her. She could still hear them. And what was going on with these streets? They were somehow narrower with more crowding buildings. Maybe she was not seeing clearly because it was nighttime. Or maybe Athos was right. Maybe it was just the events of the day that rendered her insane. Or maybe this wasn’t even Paris.</p><p>But it couldn’t be. She knew the city. It was in her blood. And yet… why did it feel so hostile and unfamiliar?</p><p>She finally found a dark alley where she collapsed behind a large pile of garbage. She sat on the floor, catching her breath.</p><p>She lay her head against the wall and took deep breaths. She stayed quiet. The only sounds to be heard were the loud pounding of her heart and the scurrying of rats and mice about her. She covered her mouth so as not to squeal.</p><p>When she ascertained that they were gone, she stood up and dusted herself. “Ugh! Disgusting!”</p><p>She looked around her. No, she did not recognize this place at all.</p><p>Where <em>was</em> she?</p><p><em>Or, rather</em>, said the intuition within… <em>when</em> was she?</p><p>She shook her head frenetically. No, not possible, not possible!</p><p>Her heart began to pound once more. No, it can’t be. This was only a nightmare. If she sat here and fell asleep then maybe she would wake up and it would all be gone.</p><p>But the tears came in spite of herself.</p><p>Oh God, who was she fooling? This wasn’t a dream.</p><p>This was real.</p><p>The worst part was that she was alone. Where were Athos and Porthos?</p><p>…</p><p>March 8<sup>th</sup>, 1788</p><p>The Captain of the Royal Guard downed another drink, bringing the total to five empty glasses.</p><p>A pair of emerald eyes stared at her with concern. It was the same story for quite some time now. The same pain, the same agony. It seemed sometimes as though they were fated for a sad and tragic life.</p><p>“So, are you going to tell me what happened today?” he began, trying to steer his thoughts towards something else.</p><p>“<em>What</em> happened?” the Captain gave him a condescending look.</p><p>“Ugh, come on, Oscar!” he groaned.</p><p>“Nothing happened today, it was a day just like any other day. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, shrugging and feigning ignorance.</p><p>“Really?!” he challenged her. “Nothing happened, like for example at the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles today when you jumped like a crazy person, shrieked and ran off like you’d seen a ghost?”</p><p>She held his gaze in contempt for a while before taking another sip and uttering into her glass, “I don’t recall.”</p><p>“Unbelievable! Tête de mule! I SAW you!” he practically yelled.</p><p>“Alright fine, keep your voice down.”</p><p>She leaned in and motioned for him to do the same.</p><p>“Look, it wasn’t a big deal, alright? It was just…”</p><p>Argh, she was so ready to tell him and yet the words just wouldn’t come out. What would he think of her? The cold, rational and calculating Oscar Francois de Jarjayes, Captain of the Royal Guard, had seen a ghost fair and square. The problem with that was that ghosts did not exist. So, she was basically insane.</p><p>Ah, but she was so sure of herself.</p><p>She saw her, right there in the mirror: a woman who looked a lot like her only dressed in a different military uniform. And no, it wasn’t her reflection for the apparition moved of its own will. It didn’t follow the movements of Oscar at all. It had its own life. Its own life right there in the mirror.</p><p>Either she was truly communicating with otherworldly beings or she was officially going mad.</p><p>She blamed the ball. What a terrible idea that was. Putting on a dress to dance with a man who can never love her. She blamed the dress, too. One night as a woman and bam! Reason goes out the door.</p><p>If only she were born a man. Everything would have been so much easier.</p><p>In any case, she did not want to admit any weakness to her interlocutor. Especially him.</p><p>She descended back to reality to be met with Andre’s face looking at her expectantly.</p><p>“It was just a mouse, alright?”</p><p>“A MOUSE?” he yelled.</p><p>“SShhhh! Do you want everyone to find out that the Captain of the Royal Guard is afraid of mice?”</p><p>“Do you expect me to believe that, seriously?”</p><p>“Just drop it, Andre, will you?”</p><p>He leaned back in his seat. She was appeased.</p><p>Alas, her victory was short-lived for Andre was looking about to ensure they were out of earshot. He then leaned in and whispered, “Look, is this about Fersen again? You know you can tell me anything. It’s been a while since we talk-“</p><p>“Oh my God, you’re being INSUFFERABLE!” she yelled at him, cutting him off.</p><p>His fists clenched. The shadow of Fersen hung about them like a thick curtain. Of course, it was about Fersen. What else would it be about? Oscar had no space in her mind nor her heart except for Hans Axel von Fersen. As for him, Andre, he didn’t belong there. He could never hope to be.</p><p>“Pay the aubergiste, will you? We’re leaving this instant,” she commanded him, rising from her seat.</p><p>No, he was only and will forever be her servant. Nothing more.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <strong>Elsewhere, nearby…</strong>
</p><p>He had followed the mob from afar until they had exhausted their search and dispersed empty handed. Much to his relief. Had he made his presence known and rushed to the musketeer’s aid, he would have drawn attention to them both and engaged in an unequal combat, the result of which would definitely have been unfavourable.</p><p>It was his turn to search now.</p><p>The streets had become eerily quiet this time of night. These streets that he thought he knew so well. Evidently not.</p><p>He couldn’t be <em>that</em> drunk. He only had one drink tonight, surprisingly.</p><p>His reason told him one thing but he knew in the depths of his soul that whatever was happening was something beyond the grasps of reason. He had a bad feeling about it all. The same feeling he had had throughout his marriage, come to think of it.</p><p>Magic was at large.</p><p>He ventured into a third alley, drawn by a distant sound. It was a muffled sob. Could it be? A ray of hope sprang to his heart. He increased his pace.</p><p>“Ar-“</p><p>Before he could finish, a pair of arms encircled him and a blade was thrust to his neck.</p><p>“Make a sound and I’ll kill you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Late at night March 8<sup>th</sup>, 1788</strong>
</p><p>The desperation and panic she felt were halted by the sound of footsteps coming her way. They hadn’t given up the search, it would seem. But why such hostility? Since when did civilians attack soldiers? Remembering the hateful look in their eyes gave her a solid chill.</p><p>She could ponder that later. After more than six years of hard training to become one of the best musketeers France had ever known, Renee d’Herblay refused to die on her knees, beside a pile of trash no less. Renee was a survivor, a fighter. No matter what it took.</p><p>And so, she stealthily pressed herself against the wall, waited for the assailant to enter the alley and pounced on him like a silent deadly tiger.</p><p>“Make a sound and I’ll kill you.”</p><p>…</p><p>If he uttered anything, he was sure that his throat would be slit right then and there. There was no mercy in the cold voice that threatened him. He had to deal with it in another way. Thankfully, he knew just how.</p><p>Aramis’ weakness resided in the legs. One kick to the knee to first destabilize her and then…</p><p>It was a lot easier than he thought it would be. A few seconds later it was him who held the knife to her throat. He immobilized her legs with his and pushed her back to the wall.</p><p>She didn’t see any of it coming, having been caught by utter surprise. Who would have thought to attack her right in the shin? And right off the bat, too? Usually, a victim will struggle with their arms, attempt to hit with the back of the head even. But this was a very precise and accurately delivered blow. Almost as if this person <em>knew</em> her.</p><p>Her chest heaved up and down as she tried to make out the face of her assailant.</p><p>“I have to say,” he finally spoke. “I’m disappointed. After six years and you still can’t anticipate your enemy as well as you should. But then you were always so reactionary…”</p><p>He trailed off, carefully tucking the blade away and handing it back to her.</p><p>“Athos!” she cried. “It’s you! Oh thank God, it’s you!”</p><p>Her voice sounded desperate. She suppressed a strong urge to jump into his arms, to hold him tightly to her as if it her life depended on it. But doing that would be inappropriate to do with a comrade-in-arms, wouldn’t it?</p><p>“How did you find me?” she decided to divert her attention elsewhere.</p><p>“I saw a group of armed men going after a blond soldier. I thought it could be you so I followed from afar. I couldn’t interfere for fear of getting us both in trouble. God, I’m so relieved you’re alright.”</p><p>His voice almost broke with emotion. The next thing she knew, a pair of strong arms enveloped her into a warm embrace. They held her there for what seemed like an eternity. She inhaled that characteristic scent of brandy and leather as she struggled not to succumb to her knees.</p><p>“I thought I lost you,” he whispered</p><p>She placed his hands on his chest as she looked up at him.</p><p>“Athos, I-“ she began. They stood so close to one another their breath almost mingled. Then, like a feline on alert, Aramis’ head turned abruptly towards the entrance of the alley. “Someone’s coming.”</p><p>But it was too late to hide, the stranger, who cast a large shadow in the faint light was already upon them.</p><p>…</p><p>“Stand back! We’re armed. There’s two of us and one of you,” Athos warned, instinctively pushing Aramis out of the way and extending his arm out to protect her.</p><p>She pushed his arm away and stood beside him, sword drawn.</p><p>“You know I can handle myself, right? I’m a musketeer, too” she hissed at him, annoyed.</p><p>“I know, but this place is more dangerous than I thought. I don’t even know where we-“</p><p>“Musketeers?” the stranger bellowed.</p><p>“This is no time for arguing, we’re about to engage,” with that, Athos ended the discussion.</p><p>However, the stranger surprised them by lowering his sword. He then squinted into the darkness and whispered. “Athos? Aramis? Is… is that you?”</p><p>The nominated ones exchanged looks and sheathed their weapons.</p><p>“Porthos!” Aramis cried as she jumped into the arms of the grand musketeer. He picked her up and twirled her around.</p><p>“Oh, thank goodness, it’s you. I saw an angry mob not too long ago and I feared for the worst.”</p><p>“Did they attack you, too?”</p><p>“No, but I did receive some hateful looks and a few verbal assaults here and there. Nothing that bothered me but I did find it unusual. I think on account of my… err… imposing size, no one bothered to harass me,” he patted his belly, to Aramis’ amusement.</p><p>…</p><p>The three musketeers huddled in a circle.</p><p>“What we know so far is that we are definitely still in Paris,” Athos was saying. “Albeit, a <em>different</em> Paris.”</p><p>“How did you two get here?” Aramis posed.</p><p>Athos recounted how he had followed the blond musketeer after she flew out of the tavern. He had barely caught her by the tail of her doublet when she slipped through his fingers. As soon as he stepped outside, she was gone. He searched the streets until he came across the mob and spotted her in the middle of it.</p><p>“I just followed Athos,” Porthos enjoined. “You were also gone by the time I was outside so I went out in search for food. Then when I came back to the tavern, it was gone. Vanished into thin air. Replaced with a bakery, ironically,” he snorted.</p><p>“You went to look for food instead of coming to look for us?” Aramis snapped.</p><p>Porthos shrugged. “What? I was starving. I didn’t have a chance to eat anything thanks to you two.”</p><p>“Unbelievable!” Aramis shook her head. Athos observed her. Why did she care so much what Porthos did? Was she angry he didn’t come looking for her? The way she so carelessly jumped into his arms… Yet she barely seemed affected when it was him she recognized in the darkness. In fact, <em>he</em> was the one who ended up embracing <em>her</em>. An embrace she seemed eager to escape…</p><p>“Well,” Athos interjected. “Now that we’ve ascertained <em>where</em> we are, we can try to figure out…”</p><p>“<em>When</em> we are,” Aramis finished the sentence for him. “You can’t tell me you don’t believe in it now?”</p><p>“I don’t know <em>what</em> to believe. We are in a place where people are hostile and aggressive. We are lost in our own city. Nay, <em>strangers</em> to our own city. None of this feels real.”</p><p>Then it dawned on her.</p><p>“Oh my God, the pendant,” the panic returned to her as she fiddled with her collar. “The pendant is gone! That man at the tavern, he stole it and ran with it before I could get to him. It must be something to do with that.”</p><p>As much as Athos did not want to admit it, all the evidence pointed to it. Whatever that magic woman did at Versailles when she touched Aramis’ pendant was certainly not without consequence.</p><p>“I have an idea.”</p><p>…</p><p>
  <strong>Late at night March 8<sup>th</sup>, 1788</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Rue du Vieux Colombier, Hôtel de Tréville</strong>
</p><p>“There’s no one here,” Porthos announced as the three stared at the place they knew so well.</p><p>“Impossible!” cried Athos.</p><p>“We already checked several times. The place is completely deserted. There is covered furniture to be seen through the windows. It’s clearly not musketeer’s head-quarters anymore,” stated Aramis.</p><p>Athos paced in circles around himself muttering curses under his breath punctuated with “not possible”, “but how?”, “but why?”</p><p>He stopped abruptly, drawn by a noise around him. Porthos had hailed a carriage that was making its way through the street and was now conversing with its occupants.</p><p>“Excuse us, Monsieur, but would you happen to know if Monsieur de Treville is at home?” he was asking the man in the carriage.</p><p>“Monsieur… de Treville? I can’t say I know anyone of that name,” the man answered with hesitation.</p><p>“Well, would you know where the new headquarters for the musketeers is? We’re Captain de Treville’s musketeers and we’re looking for him,” Porthos pursued.</p><p>“Musketeers!” the man exclaimed in astonishment. “Listen here, chap, if it’s money you’re after, find another victim to play your pranks on. We all know musketeers haven’t been around in more than a century.”</p><p>“Eh?” Porthos recoiled. “But that’s impossible! <em>We</em> are musketeers!”</p><p>The man poked his head further out the window and scrutinized the three companions. He then turned to his companion and the two seemed to fall into a discussion.</p><p>“Ahhh!” he finally acknowledged. “Of course, you are!”</p><p>Porthos breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>Alas, it was short-lived.</p><p>“You are actors from that traveling theatre I’ve heard about recently, aren’t you? Well, I’ll say, it’s quite the delightful spectacle! Will you be performing at the Palace soon? I’m sure the Queen would love to indulge your performance. Here, for your troubles.”</p><p>With that, he tossed a few coins onto the street and tipped his hat to signal his departure.</p><p>“Wait, Monsieur, if you please,” Athos hurried towards him. “For the sake of the performance, if you could indulge us: what year are we presently in?”</p><p>“Well that’s an odd request,” the man became hooty and suspicious. “Very well, it’s 1788. Adieu!”</p><p>…</p><p>“This is bad,” moaned Porthos, “This is very, <em>very</em> bad.”</p><p>He swallowed half the contents of the drink before him. After roaming through the streets of Paris aimlessly for some time, the three musketeers finally found an open tavern where the atmosphere seemed a bit more welcoming.</p><p>Athos and Aramis stared sullenly into their drinks. None of it made sense. They were in the future, there was no longer any doubt about it. But how? And why?</p><p>“We just need to focus on finding the pendant of Aramis. That seems to be the key to this… this bizarre situation.”</p><p>“Bizarre? I’d say it’s beyond any reasonable comprehension,” Porthos piped up. “I think I should stay here and make this our base while you and Aramis go search for the locket. It is, after all, Aramis’ fault.”</p><p>The latter almost choked on her drink.</p><p>“How is this <em>my</em> fault? You were the one who started a brawl at the tavern! That man wouldn’t have got to me if Athos and I had left in peace!” she cried, incredulous.</p><p>“You were the one who asked for it, didn’t you?”</p><p>“What part of ‘give us some cover’ means ‘start a fight’, you oaf?”</p><p>Porthos gasped. “How dare you!”</p><p>“And if anything,” Aramis continued heatedly, “This is Athos’ fault.”</p><p>“Well, hang on a second, now,” Athos put his hands up in defense.</p><p>“I am inclined to agree with Aramis, actually,” Porthos pointed his glass at Athos. “If you hadn’t angered that gypsy woman, she wouldn’t have felt the need to curse us. So much for your self-composure, Athos.”</p><p>“Alright, enough!” Athos slammed his fist onto the table. Then, ensuring that his comrades had nothing else to add, he resumed: “Look, finding that pendant will be like searching for a needle in a haystack. We need a plan.”</p><p>He fell silent, and the other two knew better than to say anything while Athos was thinking.</p><p>“The more I think about it,” he finally voiced, “the more I believe that we might have been sent here for a reason. I think we were meant to do <em>something</em>… for France.”</p><p>“Something like what?” Aramis inquired.</p><p>“I’m not sure, but that woman mentioned that something bad will happen to France and to the King. And since we’re sworn to His Majesty, it’s our duty to serve the Crown. First, we should position ourselves in a place that puts us at an advantage. If the musketeers are no longer, we will look for the next best thing. The King always has to have a military regiment dedicated to the security of His person and the Royal household. We just to find out more information…”</p><p>“Say no more.”</p><p>With that, Porthos removed his doublet, grabbed a few drinks and invited himself at a nearby table. An hour, several drinks and a couple of new friends later, Porthos returned to report to his companions what he had learned.</p><p>…</p><p>They were in the reign of Louis XVI who ruled with his wife, Queen consort, Marie-Antoinette of Austria. The latter, it seemed, was highly unpopular amongst the people. She was the topic of several pamphlets that were demeaning in their content. She spent lavishly while the people starved. She was despised by both nobility and commoners, it seemed. And overall, France seemed restless.</p><p>That aside, the Royal household did have a dedicated regiment. It was called the Royal Guard and the captain was one Oscar Francois de Jarjayes who lived right by the Royal Palace in – to Porthos’ grand surprise – none other than Versailles.</p><p>“Well, then, there we have it,” Athos announced.</p><p>“So, then, let’s drink to us joining this Royal Guard!” Aramis raised her glass. There was finally hope.</p><p>“Hey, you,” it was the aubergiste who spoke to them. “You’re joining the Royal Guard? Are you nobles?”</p><p>“Huh?” Porthos stared blankly at the aubergiste. “I’m not… They are. Is it… only for nobles? The chaps over there didn’t mention-“</p><p>He was cut off when his new “friends” walked over to them and one of them said accusingly, “You didn’t tell us you were friends with nobles.”</p><p> “No, no,” Porthos laughed nervously. “No one is noble, no need to worry! We’re all… err… regular folk!”</p><p>“That don’t look like regular folk to me,” one of them gestured at Athos and Aramis’ decorated uniforms. He then looked Athos up and down, his eyes scrutinizing his breeches and shoes. “We don’t need anymore people in the Royal Guard, do you hear?” he thrust his nose into that of Athos’.</p><p>“Hey listen, now, there’s no need for this,” Porthos tried to intervene. But it looked like it was too late. The men were drunk and before long, the whole tavern erupted.</p><p>A hand gently pressed on Aramis’ shoulder, startling her. She turned to find herself face-to-face with a handsome young man who had mesmerising eyes of an emerald green the likes of which she had never seen before. He leaned in and whispered in a kind voice, “There is an exit over there, to the side. It goes out directly to the stables.”</p><p>He left before she could thank him.</p><p>…</p><p>Out in the stables, Andre found her struggling to get to her horse so he hoisted her up from the waist. A guilty pleasure he loved to indulge in every time she was drunk. Just to feel her body so close to his, even for a few seconds. These were the moments he lived for.</p><p>Unfortunately, time was of the essence tonight so he couldn’t linger.</p><p>“We need to go. Now!” he alerted her, saddling his horse.</p><p>“What took you so long in there?”</p><p>He briefly recalled the angelic face of the blond individual he just tipped off. There was something mysterious and alluring about him… or her… No, it couldn’t have been a “her”… could it? But those blue penetrating eyes… He shook his head violently, forcing himself to return to the present moment.</p><p>“I… was giving someone directions.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Yes, come on, put this on and let’s go,” he thrust a coat onto her shoulders. “We really should stop coming here, even if we’re dressed down. It’s getting dangerous.”</p><p>“You worry too much, Andrrrrre,” she slurred. “Live a little!”</p><p>“God, you’re drunk,” he shook his head in disapproval and picked up the reigns of her horse. “Come on.”</p><p>“What’s the hurrrrrry?” she slurred again. She then hiccupped and burst into laughter at her own hiccup.</p><p>Oscar’s question was answered almost immediately as a group of oddly-dressed individuals stormed out of the tavern followed by several hurled bottles, flying cutlery and an angry crowd.</p><p>Thankfully, by that time, Andre had led them out of the stables but they hadn’t gotten far along so they caught the fight as it broke out.</p><p>…</p><p>“Why do I get the feeling that these people take issue with anything noble or Royal?” Porthos yelled over the a couple of men as he dodged a fist.</p><p>“You THINK?” Athos and Aramis yelled back at him simultaneously.</p><p>“Horses, this way!” Aramis cried. The two followed her, giving her cover as she saddled two mares.</p><p>Porthos jumped on one and she stomped through the crowd with the other, picking up Athos and dispersing the aggressors.</p><p>Once they were all mounted, they bolted.</p><p>…</p><p>Andre and Oscar exchanged bewildered glances. The latter, who seemed to sober up, nodded to Andre that they should follow them. They were, after all, headed in the same direction.</p><p>“Wait!” Andre yelled. “They’re being followed. Look!”</p><p>Sure enough, a man with a pistol jumped on his horse and set after them.</p><p>“All the more reason to go after them, then!” Oscar called out as she kicked her horse into a gallop.</p><p>…</p><p>To Oscar’s surprise, the pursuit was more challenging than she had anticipated. Whoever these people were, they rode fast. Uncannily fast. Not to mention the technique with which they fought. There was no doubt that they had some military training. But who <em>were</em> they?</p><p>Her horse soon approached that of the assailant. She commanded him to step down in the name of the King, announcing herself as the Captain of the Royal Guard. However, given the times they were in, she was careful not to threaten him with a weapon. Thankfully, her tone was enough to discourage him once and for all from his quest such that he reigned his horse to a momentary stop, turned on his heels and fled back to Paris.</p><p>But not before he fired his pistol.</p><p>And Oscar watched the rider with the red doublet fall off his horse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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